Your dog is not a dog of grace; 
 He does not wag the tail or beg;
 He bit Miss Dickson in the face;
 He bit a Bailie in the leg.

 What tragic choices such a dog
 Presents to visitor or friend!
 Outside there is the Glasgow fog;
 Within, a hydrophobic end.

 Yet some relief even terror brings,
 For when our life is cold and gray
 We waste our strength on little things,
 And fret our puny souls away.

 A snarl! A scruffle round the room!
 A sense that Death is drawing near!
 And human creatures reassume
 The elemental robe of fear.

 So when my colleague makes his moan
 Of careless cooks, and warts, and debt,
 -- Enlarge his views, restore his tone,
 And introduce him to your Pet!

Quod Raleigh.